


A hell of a team

by SparklingDragonTears



Series: In the dark [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 150_prompts, Gen, Glamour allure, Gratuitous use of italics, Implied Void remnants, M/M, Mildly implied past Chris/Peter, Morally Ambiguous Peter Hale, Morally Ambiguous Stiles Stilinski, Police Officer Stiles Stilinski, Post-Void!Stiles, Shifting perspective warning, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23218150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparklingDragonTears/pseuds/SparklingDragonTears
Summary: Prompt 83: "Breathe slowly, show no signs of fear."Stiles is back from college, somewhat resentfully, and paired again with Peter to hunt down a child murderer. With vampires backing them into a wall, Peter realizes exactly how much he'd missed their shadow of a human.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: In the dark [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675834
Comments: 7
Kudos: 229
Collections: Snake Noodle's 150 Prompts





	A hell of a team

**Author's Note:**

> Number 83: "Breathe slowly, show no signs of fear."
> 
> I'm stuck without work for the quarantine and instead of working on my own novel, I wrote fanfiction for you to enjoy in these trying times. 
> 
> You're welcome.
> 
> The slash is ambiguously implied. Up to you.

They were in the tunnels again. Every damn demon of the night managed to find its way into the old tunnels. It was anyone’s guess why there were no guards down here after all these years. Stiles had the bitter thought that the police were damn well aware that their little ragtag crew guarded this place better than they ever could. It figured that Stiles would be back here again. The beacon never let any of them ever truly leave. He’d graduated Pre-FBI and come back to work in this stupid town for a few years, surrounded by the same bullshit that had haunted his teenage years. At least he was finally in a position of power, with the ability to personally lock away the ones who couldn’t kill him with teeth and claws.

And while he might otherwise be annoyed to be teamed with Peter, _yet again_ , he had to admit they made a hell of a team, each of them far cleverer than the rest, save for Lydia. Together, they were damn near unstoppable. The only resentment came from the fact that Stiles still was only human and they always put him with, debatably, the strongest wolf of them all. If nothing else, Peter was the quickest to turn and the least likely to ask questions first. Stiles begrudgingly accepted that the man had saved his life more times than he could count. It was just frustrating to him to think that he still needed an _escort_.

Stiles led the way down the creepy, damp hallways, Peter strolling unhurriedly behind. They had been here for at least a half an hour, rounding the usual dark corners without event. There wasn’t any trace of the missing kids around here, and Stiles was just about ready to turn back, even though they’d agreed to an hour patrol.

“Ugh,” Stiles groaned, flipping his flashlight around, making patterns on the floor in front of them. “How pissed do you think Scott will be if we leave now? I’m sure you don’t want to be here any more than I do.”

Their history in these tunnels practically made them dungeons for all of the death and torture they’d experienced down here. Stiles glanced back at Peter, who strolled behind him, hands tucked in his pockets, face schooled and casual. Had it been anyone else, he wouldn’t appear worried. As it was, Stiles saw the tension flexing in in jaw, the tight muscles in his forearms, and the way his eyes darted around endlessly. 

Peter hummed a non-commital answer, taking a couple strides larger than the rest to come closer. Stiles frowned, but said nothing. He turned back to look down the splitting tunnels in the fork ahead of them, the dim lighting only continuing down the right passage.

“Of course one of them is dark,” Stiles muttered. “Has to be some creature of the night. Can’t ever just be a normal child-murderer who’ll spend his life pulverized in prison.” 

He opened his mouth again to ask Peter whether he smelled anything, when a hot hand slammed over his mouth, the other holding his upper arm in a death-grip.

“Hush,” Peter hissed in his ear, making him shiver. 

The wolf breathed steadily, if a bit heavy. He nudged them down the left-facing tunnel, staying at Stiles’ back. He let the hand across Stiles’ lips drift over his shoulder and down his arm to close around his hand and flick off the flashlight. He pulled Stiles close to him for a moment to whisper in his ear.

“Walk,” He ordered softly, nudging him again toward the dark when he hesitated. “I won’t let you get hurt.”

Stiles obeyed, letting the wolf lead them deeper. Peter was surprised by the trust, although after all the years, he really shouldn’t have been. Stiles walked carefully, but hardly slower than usual. Peter could see him in the dim light from where they’d come. Stiles’ arms were outstretched, but he allowed Peter to correct his direction with minute turns of his shoulder.

Peter heard them coming, a breath on the wind. He knew Stiles would never notice. He tugged backward, Stilles coming to an immediate stop. Before he could open his mouth to ask, Peter had shoved him toward the wall, throwing his back against the hard bricks and slamming over his mouth once again. Stiles dropped the flashlight, losing it in the darkness as it rolled away. He could feel the irritation ringing through Stilinski’s skin, but to his credit, Stiles did not even make a noise of protest.

“Breathe slowly, show no signs of fear.” Peter instructed as quietly as he could manage that Stiles would still hear him. Judging by the sharp intake of breath, he had. 

Peter moved the hand from Stiles’ arm and rested it on his chest. Stiles’ breath was shaky, but he was clearly trying to regulate it into slow, deep breaths. Peter secretly hoped he’d outgrown the panic attacks. That was the last thing they needed right now.

A soft whoosh and they were here. Peter turned, body before Stiles, protecting his human flesh. He growled and shifted. He let his eyes glow, and he could see them as easy as day. 

Two vampires, less than he’d expected for the amount of missing kids. A boy and a girl, likely siblings by the same dark shine in their hair. They were young, teenagers, still fleshy, freshly fed on the missing children, but unsatisfied. Probably newly turned, unable to regulate. Peter growled a warning.

“You can’t have him,” he snarled, backing Stiles further into the wall. He could hear Stiles swallow tightly. “He belongs to us.”

Stiles bristled under the words, but Peter reached a hand back and touched the back of his hand, just to be sure he was still there, not about to do something foolish. Stiles calmed the slightest bit, but Peter could still hear his heartbeat hammering, smell the anxiety and anger coming off of his sweat.

The girl knelt down slowly, locating the flashlight and flicking it on, pointed right into Peter’s eyes. He blinked heavily for a moment as the vampires crowded them against the wall.

“Hey, cutie.” The girl smiled disarmingly at Stiles. “You know, I love a man in uniform.”

She ran the light up and down over them slowly, looking around Peter to ogle Stiles. Peter heard the skip in his heartbeat, but judging by the disappointed look on the girl’s face, whatever reaction he gave wasn’t what she’d been hoping for.

“You know, you don’t have to hang around these mutts,” The boy tried, voice silky, charming. “We have a lot more fun.”

Peter ignored the jealous pang ringing through him as Stiles swallowed, a hint of arousal drifting through his sweat.

“He’s not interested.” Peter snapped as the boy stalked closer.

“Why don’t you let him speak for himself?” The girl asked, eyeing Stiles hungrily. 

Peter could see the glamour shimmering at their skin, hear the skip in Stiles’ pulse, feel him twitch at his back. He should have known better. Stiles wouldn’t show them fear. He should have warned him not to show interest, lest he be stolen away under their charms. He hoped desperately that Stiles knew what was happening, had it filed somewhere in his vast internal library of knowledge.

“He’s right, you know.” Stiles’ voice was rock solid. Bored even. “You’re insane if you think you’re taking me away from a Hale.”

Peter couldn’t help the swell of pride rising in his chest.

“Hale?” The girl asked, suddenly backing off. The boy was now glaring at Peter, still as the bricks beneath their feet.

“McCall too.” Stiles taunted easily, and again Peter found the heavy tug in his heart, familiar, desperate to truly have Stiles as one of their own.

“McCall ain’t here,” The boy bit back, clearly all bravado. The girl paled drastically, but said nothing. Peter bounced once on the balls of his feet, ready to jump if they made a move.

“You know how many have tried to take me from him?” Stiles asked over Peter’s shoulder. Peter could smell the terror that hammered through his body, but to anyone else, he was as vicious as the wolves. “I bet you don’t know a damn thing about this world.”

“There’s two of us and one of you,” The boy sneered, stepping into Peter’s face, fangs dropped low and shining in the flashlight glow. “What more do I need to know?”

Peter realized his fists were clenched tight, he ached to sink his claws into the kid’s chest. He realized however, that he was waiting for Stiles’ command to jump. Stilinski held a power in the pack, even after all of these years, after so long apart.

“You should know you’re in trouble.” Stiles baited, voice dropping low in anger, reminding Peter that he was no longer the teenager he’d known. “When he finds out you killed innocent people? _Kids?_ You don’t stand a chance. And if you touch me? Peter’s gonna kill you, right here, right now.”

His voice portrayed absolute certainty. Peter wasn’t sure Stiles could hold himself up right now without the wall, but if his face was any bit as hard as his words, Peter hoped the vampires understood that for Stiles, he would kill them in a heartbeat and wouldn’t feel an ounce of guilt. 

“We can take on one wolf, no problem.” The kid boasted, although the girl shook her head behind him.

“He’s _Hale,_ ” She whispered. 

Peter wasn’t worried about either of them, but he had a terrible feeling that if he started to fight, one of them would drag Stiles in while he was distracted. It would end in their deaths, of course, but it might break him if Stiles turned into one of _them_.

“Give us the human!” The boy snapped, ignoring his sister. 

“ _Like hell._ ” Peter snarled, well aware that he was pressed against Stiles’ entire chest, feeling the stuttering heartbeat through their clothes.

“Let’s just leave,” the girl offered, swinging the light between their faces.

“You won’t get away with this.” Stiles threatened, _provoking_ them. Peter suddenly had to hold in a grin. He understood. “I’m betting if I find where you sleep, I find the bodies of those kids. If I can’t get you by law, my wolves will take care of you.”

The boy took the bait, throwing a hand out over Peter’s shoulder, razor nails aimed at Stiles’ face. Peter caught the hand with matching speed, twisting the arm back until it was at the snapping point. He heard Stiles' gasp of surprise and it barely kept him from slamming the kid to the floor.

“You’re lucky McCall doesn’t approve of violence.” Peter warned. 

He scented the fury coursing through Stiles before he even opened his mouth to speak.

“I, however, don’t have a problem with it.” Stiles hissed, and that was all the approval Peter needed.

He moved fast, keeping an ear on Stiles and an eye on the sister, who was frozen in place, shining the flashlight like a spotlight over them. The brother’s arm was twisted out of the socket, into a brutal, three-place _shattering_ and his chest leaked blood through his torn shirt before the kid even knew what hit him.

“You-you’re police, an _officer_ -“ the vampire sputtered in protest, tears pouring over his cheeks. Peter had backed off to guard Stiles again, leaving him broken on the ground. Stiles shrugged.

“You don’t know a damn thing.” He reiterated. Peter felt the chill in the air at the shadow on his voice. He was afraid to turn and see Stilinski’s face, terrified to see the mask that might have fallen, the eyes that might shine again with ancient magic.

“ _Kids._ ” Peter ground out instead, spitting on the ground beside the vampire. He turned his head slightly toward Stiles in question, but continued glaring at the vampire bleeding out on the ground.

“Eichen.” Stiles decided, although his tone suggested he would rather murder the both of them and be done with it. 

Peter nodded and jumped down, manhandling the kid onto his front, yanking his arms back, paying no mind to the strangled yell when the broken arm was jerked around. Stiles knelt beside him and closed enchanted cuffs around the vampire’s wrists. Peter could feel the slight tremble in his arm as he brushed against him, but when Stiles looked up at the girl, his face was cold.

“Easy way or hard way?” He asked her, drawing another set of cuffs and dangling them over her brother.

Her chest heaved as she stood, leaving the light on the ground, holding her wrists out with tears in her eyes. Stiles wasted no time jumping up and snapping them over her wrists.

“Where are the kids?” He demanded. She sniffled lightly.

“I’ll take you to them.”

—

Hours and three squad cars later, the crime scene was located behind a wall in the tunnels. Stiles had happily let Scott take over, he and Derek wrestling the vampires away, presumably to a cell somewhere deep in Eichen. Stiles was exhausted, the terror having left him empty when it was gone. Scott had ordered Peter to take him home immediately after they finished giving statements, watching with concern as Stiles didn’t even put up a fight climbing into the passenger door of Peter’s car.

Peter waited until they were well out of Scott’s range to turn down an old forest road, climbing the hills, far from the old tunnels. He could see Stiles’ body sinking comfortably into the seat the further they drove. When they reached one of the peaks, Peter pulled close enough to the edge the they could overlook the city out the windshield.

Stiles said nothing, just stared out at the city shining in mid-morning light. Peter looked over his face, finally relaxed. Echoes of the dark rings were beginning under his eyes, a faraway look haunting the young officer. 

Peter ached to ask him _why_. Why would he return here after all those years? Why would he subject himself to the tunnels again? Why did he welcome back the darkness inside of him? The tunnels haunted Peter well enough, screams and blood and _Argent_ flooded through him with every step. He had seen the hesitated first step when they’d gone down, scented the constant anxiety reeking the air. Stiles had a hell of a poker face.

He thought fondly that Stilinski would be a phenomenal Agent when he got there. 

Stiles reached over and took his hand, gaze never wandering from the distance. Peter let him, feeling the slight squeeze. An apology? A thanks? A _Peter-shut-up-stop-thinking_? The wolf watched his face, but received no answers. 

He too, turned to look over their stupid little beacon of a town, resenting for the both of them that they would always be called back. It had been torture being alone with Derek and Scott and little B-team. Stiles’ return was both a miserable memory and a ray of light. Stiles would forever be the shadow to Scott’s light, the left hand where Derek was the right. And Peter fucking _loved_ it. He craved the lurking malevolence beneath Scott’s purity. When Stilinski was gone, there had been unbalance, threatening to tip Peter over the edge every day. His return had Peter feeling simultaneously uninhibited and stable once again.

Sharp words, quick thoughts, brash bravery. There wasn’t a day that went by without Peter imagining what would have happened if he’d bitten Stiles instead that night, so many moons ago.

Peter sighed, watching the smirk rise on the corner of Stiles’ mouth, suspecting they were thinking the same thing. 

If they had to be here now, like this, at least they made one hell of a team.

**Author's Note:**

> Stay healthy, read fanfiction.
> 
> Till next time,  
> -J X


End file.
